his gaze scanned their surroundings in a constant state of alert. Ryan had grown used to it over the years and took no offense.
“If she has been declared a traitor, she’s no longer safe here on Earth,” Ryan said softly as his mind filtered through all the ramifications of such a statement.
The old man, who still lay in a heap on the asphalt, groaned, cutting off their discussion.
Ryan motioned for Gavin to follow him and then headed toward the shadows before the man came to. The whole purpose in coming here tonight was to find the Healer, so there was no reason to stay longer. “Call nine-one-one for the old man, Gav. It looks like the Cunts aren’t coming back for him.”
“As you say, my lord.”
Ryan ignored the proper words, since Gavin’s tone showed he would’ve been more than happy to leave the man lying on the ground indefinitely. But Ryan also knew Gavin’s personal feelings on the subject wouldn’t affect his judgment or his job—or at least it never had. “For now, we have to get back to Tador. I think I need to have another discussion with the Seer.”
2
K iera slammed the front door of her house behind her and turned the deadbolt so hard, she was surprised the doorframe didn’t crack.
Emotions swirled through her in a rush that made her head swim. “Months of careful planning wasted!” She leaned back against the door and allowed herself a few deep breaths to calm the coursing adrenaline.
The entire Cunt council would think she was a traitor by now, which meant she wasn’t safe here. The days of them tolerating her for her medical skills were long gone if they thought she tried to hand over a council member to the Klatch.
Not that they would waste magical resources to terminate her. They would send their half-breed or outright human contingents to do their dirty work. But at least those two groups were susceptible to human weapons.
“Damn him!” The dark eyes of the Klatch prince burned through her mind’s eye, bringing with it each sensual memory of how his hard body had felt on top of hers. Angry with herself for noticing, she shrugged the sensation away. “Why did he have to show up?”
She glanced around the living room still decorated as her father had left it—an eclectic mix of United States Marine Corps military medals, sports memorabilia and old west collectibles.
Her heart ached at the thought of leaving this all behind.
Despite all the evidence to the contrary, she had held out hope that some day she would come home and find her father sitting in his favorite ratty recliner, laughing and joking like he used to. But it had been five long years since she had found him unconscious on the floor with all the indications of multiple energy-beam hits to the chest.
Which meant witches of one race or the other.
Of course, the military doctors didn’t recognize the symptoms, and she couldn’t very well enlighten them. She knew better than most that humans didn’t like what they didn’t understand. In her small clinic, she had treated many Cunts, as well as Klatch and Cunt half-breeds, who had been injured at the hands of humans. Then again, there were also many cases where they had injured each other.
A heavy weariness threatened to settle over her as it always did when she thought about the past. She shoved it aside and banged her head back against the door a few times, hoping to break herself away from the emotions those memories brought.
She had never found out who or why her father had been attacked, and he hadn’t woken since.
However, she was enough her father’s daughter to know he would want her to put her own life above sentimentality. He was as safe as he could be in the Phoenix VA hospital; now she just had to get herself to safety.
Kiera closed her eyes and carefully walled off her emotions, just as she had so many other times over the years. She pictured pouring all her pain and fear into a large shoebox and then closing the lid before stacking it on top of the growing pile of closed boxes inside her mind.
Her eyes snapped open, and the familiar calm of knowing what to do and carrying it out enveloped her. “Get your butt in gear, woman!” She smiled as she said the words aloud, since she could almost hear her father’s deep voice booming those same words.
She jogged down the hallway and into the kitchen until she came to the pantry just under the stairs. The door swung open at her touch, and rather than stepping in, she reached inside and up above the doorframe. Her fingers traced the seam of the wall where it met the ceiling until she found the latch, which to anyone else would feel like a rough spot on the sloping ceiling of the pantry. She pressed the latch for exactly four seconds and then let go and stepped back.
A large cubby as wide as the pantry door slid open from the ceiling to reveal a black backpack full of everything she would need to get away or even start a new life, if it came to that. She hefted the backpack over one shoulder and then dug a quarter out of her pocket and tossed it inside the cubby, where it landed with a quiet thunk .
The quarter was a signal between her and her father, which would let him know which safe house she planned to go to first.
Kiera swallowed hard as she realized her dad would probably never see it, and she was totally and completely on her own. She clenched her jaw and closed the cubby with the quarter still inside. After she closed the pantry door, she walked down the short hallway to the garage.
Her father’s Humvee sat next to her purple PT Cruiser, and she huffed out a breath as she realized she would have to leave her car behind, too. That was the price of having such a distinctive car in a closed community—not to mention the “WTCHDR” license plate. It had been somewhat of a joke at the time, but over the years since she had opened her clinic, it had made her easy for her target clientele to find.
Her gaze swept the inside of the garage to make sure nothing had been disturbed.
Floor-to-ceiling cabinets ran along each side of the garage, and at the back, where normal people would put a washer and dryer, her father had installed a heavy-duty fireproof gun safe, which ran the width of the space and stood six feet high. Her father had it specially made and equipped with state-of-the-art security measures.
Marine colonel’s liked their firearms and other goodies protected.
Kiera pressed her thumb to the entry pad of the gun safe. After scanning her thumbprint and matching it to the approved users—only she and her father—a small black panel popped open to reveal the combination lock.
Her fingers reached for the dial.
A blur of dark orange fell from above, knocking her arm away.
Kiera whirled to face her attacker, and a loud “mrowwr” sounded near her feet.
“Damn it, Shiloh!”
Her father’s orange tabby cat swiveled his head, and she found herself on the receiving end of an unblinking orange-eyed glare. The effect was made more intense by the fact that a perfect line of white ringed both eyes like fur eyeliner. The rest of Shiloh was alternating stripes of dark and lighter orange, with white only around his eyes, on his toes and at the tip of his tail.
“Sorry, Shi,” she mumbled as she reached for the safe’s dial again. “It’s
